


Memories

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dementia, Gen, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: It's been years since that Halloween night, and an aged Laurie Strode lives her life quietly.  Her mind has started to go, and she tries to sort out what parts of her memory are true and which parts are not.  Her children or her child?  Her grandson or granddaughter?  There is only one constant in the three lives she's trying to sort thorugh.





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



Keri Tate sat in the rocker… she closed her eyes and tried to remember.  She wasn’t always Keri Tate.  She used to be… it was so hard to remember.  So hard.  It was witness protection, very hush hush.  They made her forget her name.  She had given it up to protect herself, but now, with so much so foggy, it was so very important for her to remember that.  That little piece of a life left behind.

Laurie Strode.  She smiled as she remembered that.  She used to be Laurie Strode, a lifetime ago.

She couldn’t remember why the name ‘Cynthia Myers’ flashed through her head while she tried to remember Laurie Strode. 

She could remember Michael Myers though.

* * *

Laurie sat in her chair, rocking slowly.  Jamie was there.  She was talking about Halloween, she was going as a clown this year.  That was unnerving to Laurie for reasons she couldn’t quite place.  The talk was light though, and the girl was very cheerful.  The Carruthers were treating her very well, they were nice.  Mommy used to babysit Rachel, right?  Well, Rachel wasn't quite happy about it, but the Carruthers were going out tonight, so Rachel had to babysit Jamie.  That was exciting to the girl.

Rachel was like a sister to Jamie.  Laurie had babysat her, a long time ago.  The seventies.  She actually stopped doing that one Halloween night.  The night he came home.

* * *

Allyson was visiting Laurie.

That was nice of her; she had a strained relationship with Karen, but Allie was still on very good terms.  Guess it had to do with her being a ‘cool grandma’.  She never was cool though; everything she had done, every step she had taken, was out of fear.

There but for the grace of god…

That might have been the start of the split between her and Karen.  All her preparations, everything she did to make herself and her family safe… it could be dangerous. 

When Laurie started to forget things, all those preparations had become a liability, and so here she was.

* * *

Jamie was talking about her son; how they had to keep him safe from his Uncle.  Michael.  There wasn’t much time, they had to move.  Laurie made to get up, back protesting halfway and she fell back into the chair, sighing.  Lumbago was difficult.

Jamie was urging her to continue, to get up and run with her.  She couldn’t, she wanted to, but couldn’t.  There was such a fog, but the dark shape with the white face was showing up.  He moved soundlessly and with no particular hurry. 

The baby was crying, and Jamie was leaving.

* * *

John was there.  Keri was glad to see her son.

It wasn’t her fault, he assured her.  There was no way for her to know that the man in the mask wasn’t Michael Myers.  Wasn’t his uncle.

Keri thrashed against the restraints, too feeble to do much.  She made him look her in the eye.  He promised to help her any way he could.  She told him that John’s sister needed help.

John’s face was blank.  Did he have a sister?  With his deadbeat father, it was entirely possible there was a legion of siblings running around, but he knew about his mother’s life, about Laurie Strode.  There wasn’t any relatives left on that side of the family.

Except Uncle Michael.

PTSD and Alzheimer’s were a bad mix, apparently.

* * *

The chat wasn’t entirely cordial.  Jamie sat, frowning deeply despite the smile her clown makeup gave her.  The baby in her arms was quiet.

It had been festering for a long time, ever since they reconnected.  Why had Laurie given her up?  Why had Laurie pretended to be dead and moved across the country and why had she left Jamie?  The Carruthers were good people, but they weren’t her mother.

And now Rachel was dead.

Was it because Jamie was a Myers?  She had been hospitalized when she was younger, after all.

* * *

Michael wasn’t her brother.

Karen looked concerned.  They’d fallen apart, but she still loved her mother, that’s why they sent her to this place.  Allyson was next to her, similarly concerned.  Laurie was having episodes again, they said.  She was ranting about things that never happened.

The rumor she was Michael’s secret sister was just a mean urban legend that started to spread when she got bad with her paranoia, like that rampage at the hospital.  Remember?  She didn’t.

She never was in a car crash.  Who were Jamie Lloyd and John Tate?  She wasn’t institutionalized… this was a nursing home they could take care of her needs.

She was getting worse, they said.

* * *

The Shape said nothing.  That was the one constant in her life.  Three children, two grandchildren.  Which ones were real and which ones were imagined?  She could not be sure anymore.  She knew the Shape, not everything.  Was it her brother, was it not?  It was ridiculously cruel, in a way.  She had such difficulty remembering family.  Such difficulty.  The one constant being the Shape, whether it was family or not.

It sat in the chair opposite Laurie’s, pale face standing out against the darkness of the room.  Laurie sat and stared at him, at the blank, pale mask it wore.  Why did it choose that one?  The overalls were just the first clothes it could find, but there were plenty of masks in the store it had stolen it from.  Aside from looking a little familiar in an odd way, she couldn’t understand its allure.  It was just abjectly nothing.  A man’s face in white plastic, with dark hair; not anything more or less horrifying.  It was empty.  Maybe that’s why it wore it, like the eyes underneath, there was nothing in the man.

The horrifying part wasn’t the mask, but what the Shape did. 

Had she faced it once?  Twice?  Four?  Five times?  She couldn’t be sure anymore.  Couldn’t be sure of anything except the Shape was the one constant, the one thing she couldn’t forget as her mind and body aged and began to fail.

“Hello Michael.”


End file.
